I remember when I first saw SHOWGIRLS, and no, it wasn't
at band camp or computer camp or church camp like you rotten children Googling
this at home. Back in 1995, when there was a better economy (don't get too
nostalgic; it never trickled down that much to Cleveland), I actually possessed
some standing in the local entertainment press, and I attended a cloistered,
media-only SHOWGIRLS preview in an elite small venue where normally only
Cleveland-area exhibitors get exclusive looks. No, not a "private
booth," but not much larger than a private booth (assuming I know how
large a private booth is, which I only do from dirty-bookstore shootout scenes
in cop flicks). I and a handful of other reporters were jammed in there, and
when the lights went up you could cut with a knife the pure hatred hanging in
the air, directed at - no, not LeBron, too early for him - but at
local-journalist-turned-hotshot-scriptwriter Joe Eszterhas.

(Of course, this was all before Joe E. actually moved
back here, to dwell in Bainbridge. These days, SHOWGIRLS notwithstanding, Joe
Eszterhas would be handed the Cleveland Arts Prize, as long as he helped sell
ad slicks for the awards-ceremony program guide. And perhaps bring along his
good friend Mel Gibson.)

SHOWGIRLS, of course, was notorious even before
premiering. What people might forget now is that the picture was the big
test-run of the MPAA's "NC-17" rating for strict adults-only
material. NC-17 labels had gotten stamped previously on some arty/indie films
like HENRY AND JUNE, the type that play at the Cedar Lee, but this was the
first time an NC-17 mainstream-studio blockbuster went nationwide with a full
newspaper-ad blitz. Since a lot of flyover-country media saw no difference
between an NC-17 and utter porn and refused to run ads for NC-17 (or even
unrated) pictures, the success or failure of SHOWGIRLS would determine how Hollywood handled future
films meant for strictly adult mentalities.

SPOILER ALERT: It didn't end well.

Maybe if the big NC-17 test-case, as a film that
absolutely no children ought to see by law, had been SCHINDLER'S LIST or SAVING
PRIVATE RYAN or MARMADUKE (my opinion, that last one), things might have been
different. But any lesson that NC-17 movies need not be schlock-porn was lost
when director Paul Verhoeven, not a dumb guy, reuniting with his BASIC INSTINCT
writer Eszterhas, also not a dumb guy (would'ja believe his dialogue
name-checks Alvin Ailey?), ended up making what amounted to a big-budget porno.
Sure, one with a plotline ripped off from ALL ABOUT EVE, but still schlock-and-
awe raunch. Topless, bottomless, pantiless, and valueless.

Nomi Malone (Elizabeth Berkley), a young, attractive and
assertive mystery drifter covering up her troubled past, hitchhikes to Las Vegas only to be
robbed of her meager possessions. Nomi finds sanctuary sharing a trailer with
Molly (Gina Ravera), a good-hearted costumer who works on "Goddess,"
a spectacular erotic-topless musical revue in one of the biggest gambling
casinos. Nomi dreams of dancing in a show like that, but meanwhile earns money
as a stripper and lapdancer at a raunchy night club called Cheetah's . She also
experiments in erotic undulations with an ambitious young choreographer.

Crystal (Gina Gershon), the haughty star who headlines in
"Goddess" finds out about Nomi and loses no opportunity to try and
humiliate the hopeful newcomer, as Nomi rises through the ranks of
topless-showgirl-dom and is drawn into an affair with Crystal's steady boyfriend (Kyle MacLachlan),
a powerful casino executive.

Unlike what I assume to be most of the stuff reviewed by
Adult Video News (I wouldn't know; I've never worked there. Anyone know if
they're hiring?) there is a theme in the Verhoeven-Eszterhas mise-en-scene,
about a strong woman holding onto her integrity (and, occasionally, her
breasts), and not lowering herself to become a "whore" even though
mired in the topless sex-show trade. The plot pretends to be an
"ethical" story of an indomitable lady not getting dragged 100 per
cent into degradation and exploitation - but hey folks, this is about topless
Vegas dancers (she bails at about 98.05234 per cent degradation). The mileau
is so sleazy that practically everyone's a whore, so there. Nomi's biggest
moral victory: abandoning her topless career to avenge (toplessly) her one true
friend Molly. And there's a sub-message, that skanky strip-club Cheetah's and its
douchebag proprietor (great character actor Robert Davi) are at least honest
and upstanding about what a filthy business they're in - much more so than the
treacherous culture of the upscale casino-palaces.

Of course, despite its pretensions (or perhaps because of
them), SHOWGIRLS got roundly jeered by all critics, even me (yes, Cassady
didn't go for it, bet that broke Eszterhas' heart. Anybody know if he's
hiring?). At least Roger Ebert said the pic was bad but never boring, and
that's the right call. And, along with the can't-believe-what-you're-seeing
dance routines, it's probably the reason that SHOWGIRLS has gone on to become a
cult movie. And if there's going to be marathon toplessness for the sake of
"art," one could do worse than Elizabeth Berkley, Gina Gershon and the other lovelies who will never be your girlfriend, don't even think of it..

...Though I wonder if fans are ever
confused by the fact that when it went to video the distributor toned
it down with a hard-"R" version as well as the original
NC-17 cut, in slightly variegated video boxes. I've yet to compare
the two directly (still waiting on Adult Video News' looking over my
resume) so can speak no further on the matter. But I'm sure we can
all agree, that after SHOWGIRLS, Cleveland's Horseshoe Casino
seems less interesting indeed. (1 ½ out of 4 stars)